


window fog

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't abide cold like this, and no one should be able to; Eridan asked you why you were being such a grumpy shitstain and you responded with a  good ten minutes of yelling about how if the sun and the native foliage and <i>bears</i>, for fuck's sake, didn't have to function, then neither did you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	window fog

**Author's Note:**

> i sat down for five hours and wrote this reward me by reading it

It is cold as hell and you've entered that state of autopilot-hibernation where the most conscious you've been in two days has been your trek from bed to the kitchen for coffee or shitty packet cocoa and back. You can't abide cold like this, and no one should be able to; Eridan asked you why you were being such a grumpy shitstain and you responded with a good ten minutes of yelling about how if the sun and the native foliage and _bears_ , for fuck's sake, didn't have to function, then neither did you and any disappointment with you experienced by him was a delusion brought upon by this miserable weather.

Realistically, you're probably starting to stink because the pipes have sort of frosted over and you refuse to leave your comfortable little blanket-and-electric-blanket-and-two-hot-water-bottles cocoon except to caffeinate yourself or pee, but it's easy to ignore once you lose yourself in shitty online platformers and trying to orient yourself so you can poke your fingers out of your blanket pile without them freezing off. An early life in Cupertino, California did not prepare you for the very real and present danger of being snowed in.

The worst part is Eridan, and how he's fucking eating it up; where you're freezing and whiny and holed up in a small dark room, he's opening the upstairs window and snapping icicles off the eaves to poke you with, which makes you yell and thrash and curse his name and his lineage and the mountains, really, who the fuck would live in this wasteland? It's not just the icicles, either, it's how it seems like he's actually enjoying this. He'll dig his way out the door in the morning with gloved hands and come back once there's a path cleared down to the sidewalk, which you've bitched at him is totally pointless because it'll just be snowed over in a few hours  _anyway_ , and he'll come in with bright eyes and snow in his hair and eyebrows and scarf and thump his way to the kitchen without taking his boots off and steal your cocoa. 

He's only tolerable when at least one of the following conditions is met, you decide:  the weather is above bullshit fucking freezing, or he's being quiet and letting you put your somehow still cold feet on him. 

He lets you mope for a full two days before hauling you bodily out of your pile of blankets and standing you on the ground. You bitch and moan but somehow end up bundled up in more layers than a fucking cabbage, nearly immobile under how many warm things you insisted on wearing. 

He tugs one of your gloves off and one of his, and then you're holding hands. "I'm  _cold_ ," you practically screech, "Stop  _touching_ me, I'm  _cold_ , your hands are  _cold!_ " but you make no real move to pull away, and he takes the whining for the transparent bullshit it is. In your turn, you take him taking advantage of your lack of ability to look where you're going to shove you bodily into a snowdrift for transparent bullshit, too, and pull him with you. _  
_

What you're not expecting is the handful of snow that gets shoved down your coat, and you fucking _screech._ He's laughing, the piece of shit. 

You flail your arms around and spray snow everywhere, getting a lot more on yourself than on him, but it's the thought that counts, really. Anyway, the yelp when you jam your icy fingers down between his collar and the back of his neck is totally worth it. 

"How do you like  _that_ , you sadistic fucking abomination, you thought I was above this? Think again, motherfucker, I fight dirty." 

He grins and pushes up off of you, grabbing the top of your hood and doing some weird scoopy motion with it before pulling it down over your head, and it takes you a second to realize he just filled your hood with snow, ow, fuck, cold, get it off get it off get it off!

"You  _shit!_ "

"How often does it show around here? I've gotta get my kicks in while I have the chance. It's just business." 

You wad up a snowball as tight as you can and fling it at him, smacking him square in the middle of the chest with a  _piff!_  

Laughing like a fucking idiot warms you up, no problem. Not as quickly as when you stumble home flushed cool-bright and fall into bed like your legs can't support you, when the two of you get snow anywhere and everywhere and cuddle close half-dressed for body heat and the warmth of clothes, when you wake up first and make coffee and crawl back into bed because it's cold and you'll need energy if you're going to do all that over again today. 

Not that quickly, but it'll certainly do.


End file.
